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“Sirus, you know us better than that. We’re not soft like they are in the core. We’re staying until all of our people are on ships and evacuated. We are here to protect them with half our forces. The other half is already on their way with the first wave of evacuees…”
His mother trailed off and frowned, looking up at something he couldn’t see.
Then an alarm on his console went off and Sirus pulled it up, feeling the panic inside flare as he feared the worst. An explosion he could see from the ship confirmed it.
“We’re under attack. You boys get your asses down here and help us get everyone out before it’s too late.” His mother was suddenly the stern countess some said was heartless behind her back, but she was a vicious warrior through and through – she was forged in the burning cold of Scyria, made to survive and protect. Then she ended the transmission without even a goodbye.
Peter grabbed his arm, panicking. “What do we do, Sirus?”
“We follow her command,” he gritted out, flipping through every display and report on his console as he tried to figure out what was attacking his homeworld, though he suspected he already knew. “Captain, get us down there and send out a warning to the rest of the flagships. Find out what is attacking Scyria. Nothing is showing up on my scans.”
“Right away, Lord Sirus.”
Shouts and the crew scrambling became background noise as he looked out the massive viewer and saw more explosions. Most would survive the exposure to the extreme cold. They’d been born on Scyria after all. They were all warriors of some kind or another, but he’d seen what those monsters could do. And once the battlefield was softened the Neprijat would come in and take what was left.
He refused to allow that.
Sirus shut down his console and left Command. He took the quickest route down to the massive hangar where every warrior and pilot suited up.
“Sirus, I haven’t been in actual battle for cycles,” Peter protested, following after him.
His older brother’s weakness had always disgusted him. It wasn’t physical weakness, but a lack of will and fight. He had no urge to protect what was his which was the real reason their mother had sent him off to court, hoping the drive for power and favor would work in their benefit there.
Sirus stopped and gripped his brother’s shoulder hard enough to hurt. “If you cannot stomach a battle then get your ass in a fighter ship, but you are not staying here to wring your hands and do nothing. That is your family down there, your future niece. Grow a pair and suit up.”
He left him and grabbed one of the thousands of suits of armor Princess Adelina had commissioned. The spidersilk armor was light, but he’d seen it tested. It would withstand almost anything. Sirus stepped into it and tapped the Draga seal on his chest. The suit shrunk to fit him perfectly, each plate molded to his body for ease of movement.
Then he moved down the line with the rest of the warriors and grabbed a variety of weapons. He had no need to direct his warriors. Each and every one knew what was required of them. The starship banked hard and they descended to the atmosphere with so much speed it was like slamming into a wall.
“Get ready for the drop!” Sirus roared.
Peter came up beside him, wearing his own armor. Sirus nodded. “If you still favor a mecha I have a few extra over there.” He pointed at the massive machines with warriors climbing up and into them.
They were about the size of a fighter, but were best for the ground. The mechanized arms and legs were an extension of the warrior, but caused a thousand times more damage including bigger and better weapons. They were the best of Sirus’s contingents and would mow through the Neprijat creatures. Fighters would be able to provide air support, and then the remaining warriors on the ground could deal with the actual Neprijat and assist the rest of the evacuees.
The alarm went off as they approached the surface. The Warrior’s Curse wouldn’t land, but it would skim the surface, flying right over the family seat so they could all descend onto the battlefield. One of their best maneuvers.
Sirus took his position at the head of his infantry and watched his brother grab a mecha. “One minute!”
Another alarm went off and he activated the display on his arm and the armor popped up the holos for the systems he was connected to. Sirus checked his warriors and the squad leaders nodded in affirmation. He tapped the command on his arm and the bottom of the ship slid open, revealing Scyria below them.
He watched as the warriors, mechas, and fighters deployed. Peter was ready to go and waited while Sirus activated his helmet. They’d trained together cycles ago, but it was like no time had passed at all when they dropped down to the surface together.
The armor cushioned Sirus’s landing and his knees bent to distribute the weight. The familiar gravity and location was like a balm on his soul, but in the same breath he felt only dread. From the surface he could see the Neprijat’s pets. They were like a plague as they skittered over everything, those eyeless oblong heads so incredibly disturbing.
It was like being on Treon all over again, but this time they had the numbers to actually do something more than try to stay alive. Sirus only hoped they weren’t too late. He pushed out orders to each squad and legion and took command of two mechas other than Peter and a small squad of warriors.
“We need to check the seat and get the heir and Elena to safety first. The rest of our forces will clear the way for the evacuations.”
“Lord Sirus, Veri and I are heading to the surface to provide backup. The rest of the fleet will protect the evacuation in the skies,” Prince Asher informed him over the fleet channel. “May your hunt end in blood and victory.”
“As you command,” Sirus replied.
He led the foray into the madness and chaos.
They used blasters and plasma blades that cut through the monsters like stalks of grain. The mechas took swaths of them down in one hit and the screeches of death were music to Sirus’s ears.
He grinned and cut a path to the family seat, black blood and limbs and monstrous bodies littered the ground as he fought and killed his way to his family. Reports of ships successfully evacuating changed the battle. This was nothing like Treon.
